Chapter Text
"Jeremy Fitzgerald?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow towards the young man standing in front of him.
"Yes sir," Michael Afton answered, throwing on his best disarming smile. The man in front of him was older than him - probably at least as old as his father, if Mike had to guess. He was heavy set, dressed in nicely pressed clothes, and carrying the air of a practiced businessman. He had a permanent scowl on his face - or at least that was all he was giving Mike. Mike's smile didn't do much for the older man's demeanor, but it did ease the suspicion in his eyes somewhat.
"Name's Jacob, manager" the older man said after a minute, thrusting a hand towards Mike. The younger man took it, exchanging a quick handshake neither wanted to hold for long. Jacob sniffed slightly, eyes raking up and down Mike's form, suspicion back in full force.
"You know this job is eighteen and over only, right? You sure you make the cut?" He asked critically.
Mike just kept smiling. He was lanky and thin - mostly because he spent most of his time these last three years just barely scraping by. He knew he looked young, it didn't much bother him. "Just turned eighteen in July. Don't worry, I'm perfectly legal." He hadn't even needed to lie, for that one.
"Right, well, good then. That's covered." Jacob said, shifting his attention to the small stack of papers in his hand. "Well, the shift's 11:45pm to 6:00am -"
"11:45?" Mike interrupted, frowning slightly at that, "didn't the paper say 12?"
"Trust me kid," Jacob gave him a dry, humorless look, "you'll want to be here at 11:45. It's true, you don't start getting paid until midnight, but I wouldn't plan on arriving that late."
Mike's frown deepened, but he didn't argue more. He was pretty sure that wasn't how jobs were supposed to go - that he was supposed to be paid for any time on the clock. But job hunting had been fruitless for awhile and his fridge was desperate - and likely, he'd have been there around that time anyway.
"That time gonna work for you?" Jacob pressed, when Mike was quiet for a minute.
"Oh, yeah - yeah, that's fine," Mike said.
"Great, then you're hired. Orientation is Sunday, during the day. Ain't a lot to teach you, but you've gotta go through the whole spiel from the restaurant. Most of the job's learning on the - well, job. So Sunday, at 1. Don't be late. First full shift will be Monday at 11:45. Got it?"
"Just like that?" Mike asked, startled. He hadn't even had a proper interview - he'd only been in the restaurant for a total of maybe ten minutes, and in front of Jacob for far less than that. He hadn't even handed the man his resume. He half tried now, but Jacob just scowled down at it.
"You gonna rob the place?" Jacob asked.
"No," Mike answered.
"You a killer, a pedo, or any combination of those things?"
"No!"
"Then don't do drugs in the office, don't fuck with the animatronics, and be here on time. Other than that, I don't give two shits, kid. You're the one desperate enough to work for what I'm offering. You still want the job, you show up to orientation. That's it. Got it?"
"Uh, yeah. Got it."
"Well," Mike said aloud to no one, "that was way easier than I thought." He walked into the small apartment he shared only with himself, plopping his coat on the chair just outside of the entrance hallway. He couldn't help but wonder if that should concern him - a place desperate enough to hire someone without doing much of an interview or background check was probably a place in trouble. Either soon to close down, or else way overdue for some kind of lawsuit.
But Mike needed the money. Besides, it was Freddy's - or at least a revamped version of it. It was almost like an old, familiar… acquaintance. He couldn't say friend, not any more. On one hand, he had fond memories of Fredbear's from when he was a child, even before Jeremy had been born. It'd been a place of escape, where the workers were kind to him, even spoiled him. A good break from the much more tense atmosphere at home and around his father.
On the other hand, the memory of Fredbear's was twisted by what had happened to Jeremy. Jeremy and his accident. His attack. Mike sat on the floor in his tiny kitchen with a sudden breath, one hand coming up to cover his face. He hadn't meant to think of it, but now there was no stopping the memories. They were as clear as the day it'd happened - the laughs and jeers of Mike's friends. The same sort of horrible things slipping from his own mouth. The feeling of the trembling, begging little body as he passed Jeremy over to a friend.
The indescribable crunch. The screams. And then the horrid silence.
William, his eyes cold and distant as he informed his oldest son, a week later, that the child hadn't made it. Telling him, but never giving Mike the chance to say he was sorry. Or goodbye. His father hadn't let him anywhere near Jeremy's hospital room. He'd barely tolerated Mike being in their house. It hadn't been long after that when he'd kicked Mike out entirely. Never mind that Mike was only fifteen, that he had nowhere to go. William had given him a lump of cash and a cold shoulder. And Mike hadn't see his father, or little sister, ever since.
Mike pulled his knees to his chest. He felt like he needed to cry - but he'd run out of tears for Jeremy and the rest a long ago. It had been three years since Jeremy had passed away from his injuries. Three years, and the wound still felt as fresh as the day it happened. The pain rolled over Mike in waves, each one a fresh punch to the gut. Crying might have been a relief, might have eased the tightness in his chest. But all he could do was ride the waves of pain.
"I'm sorry, Jeremy," Mike whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -"
Maybe a shitty job was all he deserved.
Mike's heart was going to burst clean out of his chest, he was sure of it.
Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was an excitable place. Kids ran around the multiple rooms, cheering and yelling and screaming. Mike, standing not far in the doors, flinched at the noise. There'd been a few openings for various positions during the day, but he'd avoided them like the plague. It was too busy during the day - there were too many noises and smells and sights. He felt overwhelmed even now, and he'd only been there a minute or two. Besides, the band of animatronics played during the day - watching them sing their songs and move mechanically, even just now, made Mike's chest squeeze tight. At least, he thought, they didn't keep those yellow things.
He jumped violently when a hand clasped his shoulder - even after three years, the hold was familiar and strong. When the fingers curled, digging into his shoulder slightly, he didn't have to look to know. Although, he turned to look anyway.
Jeremy had been the one to look most like their father, heavier set and with the same sharp face. But Mike shared William's dark hair and deep blue eyes. William had lost weight over the past three years and, in the moment, it was Mike's own image looking back at him. Albeit with an older face, and a few light streaks in his hair. The bent, slightly dirty tag on the man's uniform read 'Dave,' but Mike wasn't fooled. Apparently, using fake names ran in the family. He supposed he should be more surprised to see his father - especially dressed as a security guard with a fake name. But he could honestly say he wasn't surprised in the least. Seeing William hurt like a slap in the face but, really, Mike should have been prepared for the possibility. After all, Freddy's had always been William Afton's pride and joy.
"I wondered. Jeremy Fitzgerald, huh? That meant to be a joke, Michael?" The older man asked, his voice a quiet hiss. There was something angry deep in his eyes. Mike did his best not to flinch away, although it was incredibly difficult.
"No, dad," Mike answered, his voice small even to his own ears, "more like a - a dedication."
"Using the name of the brother you killed? You never cease to amaze me, Michael." His father's hand slipped from his shoulder, "and not even having the decency to at least warn a man. Do you know what it did to me, to hear that name spoken so casually?" Mike didn't answer, because he didn't trust himself to answer nicely. His father hadn't spoken to him in three years, it hadn't been Mike that cut that contact. Not to mention, he doubted his dad cared as much about Jeremy as it seemed. He also didn't trust that William wouldn't slap him silly right here in the middle of the restaurant. William didn't seem to care for an answer, anyway. He went on. "So, you have taken the night guard shift. I suppose that's a surprise. I thought you'd stay as far away from this place as possible."
Mike opened his mouth to respond, but a few seconds later shut it without a word. He didn't know what to say. How did he explain to his father, who he hadn't seen in three years, the man he'd almost hoped to never see again, that some indescribable pull had urged him to apply for the position. That every red flag so far hadn't scared him away. That yes, even though his memory of the place was tainted, he still felt drawn to its doors. He barely understood it himself and he knew if he tried to explain, his father's words would be mocking and harsh. So instead, Mike shrugged.
William Afton didn't say anything more for a long moment either, studying Mike with those same cold, angry eyes - the only things he'd seen in his father's eyes since Jeremy's accident.
"If you're going to be around, you'd better get in touch with Elizabeth, too. Despite everything, I know she misses you," William said after a long moment. Mike's chest twisted. He wanted to point out that his father was the one who'd forced the two remaining siblings to cut ties - but he wouldn't risk this peace offering. Instead he nodded. Even threw his father a small smile.
It wasn't returned.
"I need to - uhm, I have to get to my orientation," Mike said, "dad, it -"
"I'll show you the way," William interrupted, his hand grabbing once again onto Mike's shoulder in a cold, emotionless hold.
"You don't have -" Mike tried to protest, but cut off at the cold smile his father gave him.
"I'm your father. And this restaurant is dear to me. It's only right."
Mike didn't argue further and let his father guide him deeper into the restaurant, taking in his surroundings as they went.
They approached a small office off the side of the main room. Jacob's, Mike assumed. But before they entered his father paused, tightening his hold on Mike to make him stop as well. Then, William turned the younger man to face him and leaned down slightly, close enough so that he could speak into Mike's ear. Words just for him, and him alone.
"This place will test everything you are, Michael. Your body, your mind, your will. You do not know what you are getting into - but you'd best be prepared for it. If you are not, turn away now and go find another job. I do not relish having to tell Elizabeth that she has lost yet another brother." He straightened again, still looking at Mike. Then, he gave a short nod of his chin towards the office door, turned, and walked away.
Mike watched him go, suddenly feeling very ill at ease.
Freddy's was certainly a different beast at night. It was quiet and still - except for the skittering of what Mike could only assume were rodents in the walls. The floorboards creaked as he entered - closing and locking the door behind him. He moved towards the office Jacob had showed him earlier, but paused in the dining room. After a second of consideration, he drifted off course in order to go stand in front of the stage and look up at the animatronics sitting there - deactivated for the night.
Mike could vaguely remember when Fredbear's had introduced the small band - Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie. But they'd never been especially popular in those days. It was hard to trade them in for the originals, after all - the original, yellow Bonnie and Fredbear had been beloved. At least, up until one of them had cleaved nearly clean through a child's skull. During the day. When the restaurant had been packed with other children and adults. It must have paved the way for management to promote the three newer animatronics as the faces of their brand. That being said, they'd apparently scrapped all of the animatronics from the old place in order to revamp them, because these three were not the ones Mike remembered.
These ones were shiny, with bright eyes and bright smiles and brightly painted bodies that, he supposed, were inviting to children. Their cheeks were round, exaggerated, and colorful. They were also smaller than he remembered any of the older models being - but maybe that was just because he was taller these days. Over all, they weirded him out a little, especially in the dim nighttime lights of the pizzeria. Their bright eyes were a little too bright, and their stillness was unnerving. He didn't particularly like watching them move, but it also seemed wrong for them to be so still and quiet.
"Guess it's just you and me now," Mike told them, "don't worry, I'll keep a good eye on this place." He smiled, despite himself, giving the animatronics one last look over before turning to head to his office. He had only just looked away, missing it when one green eye from the rabbit rotated to look at him.
The office was bigger and more open than Mike had expected. It was, he thought, an over all odd setup. It faced directly into what had to be the biggest hallway in the building. Two vent openings sat to each side of him, no grate covering to be seen. And there were buttons placed above them - he clicked one experimentally, surprised by the sudden light filling the vent to his left. That was an odd place for a light.
He noticed something else on his left side. He reached over and picked it up, moving it around to get a good look. It was an old, emptied out Freddy face. It seemed to be based off of the old model, if he had to guess, because it was missing the rounded cheeks and plastic newness of the current variety. He sat it experimentally against his face - it was almost a perfect fit. Easy to pull back off, but stable as it sat there, too.
"Wonder if someone lost this?" He muttered to himself, taking it off and laying it back where he'd found it. He turned slightly, picking up the other tablet on the desk. It controlled the security cameras, and he flipped curiously through them. There was the stage, with all the animatronics standing just as he'd left them a few minutes ago. The dining hall. Parts and services - he stopped, freezing. In the dim light, he could just make out a Freddy head laying on its side, eyes open and unblinking, almost giving the impression that it was looking right into the camera. It looked old and withered, it's jaw too open, it's fur too patchy. Again, definitely not one of the currently in-use models. But with the look it was giving, Mike was half expecting to see it move. It didn't though, and as Mike's heart calmed back down he looked a bit closer. He wondered if it was a leftover from the first restaurant. It could have been the Freddy Mike remembered. His memory wasn't clear enough to say for sure. He'd never much paid attention to the strange, new robots.
Mike jumped a foot in the air when the phone on the desk suddenly rang - loudly. He stumbled with it, grabbing the receiver and lifting it to his ear. He went to greet whoever was there - but was interrupted before he could.
"Uh, hello? Hello, hello? Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."
"Hello -?" Mike tried to respond, but the voice went on talking. It was a message, he realized, and it must have been set to call through at the start of his shift. With nothing to do but listen, Mike propped the phone against his shoulder and went back to flipping through the cameras. He listened idly as the phone guy spoke of the previous location - rumors my ass - and all the jumble about Freddy's being safe and blah blah blah. He paused, though, when the man spoke of the animatronics moving at night.
"They do WHAT?!" Mike exclaimed, quickly switching the camera back to the stage. He tried to bring his breathing back under control - all three were still there, and the man on the phone was still talking. Oh okay, a music box - that only works on one of them? This place is on crack, Mike thought, shifting through the cameras again. And then be found it - the prize room. As the camera switched onto it, the feed began playing a twinkling, soft musical tune. He vaguely recognized it from childhood, and he found it sort of calming. He pressed the button on the screen to wind it, although the alert on the monitor seemed to indicate that it was at full power. Okay. Music box, keep it wound, check. He switched cameras again and, even with the guy still talking in his ear, Mike swore he could still hear that music tinkling faintly down the hall.
And according to the guy on the phone, the strange empty Freddy face wasn't someone's lost item. It was another fail-safe, meant to help protect Mike. Fuck, protect him from what? Roaming animatronics that might try to stuff him into an empty suit? What the hell even was this place, and why hadn't anyone bothered to warn him? A sudden thought occurred to him, and he about damn near threw the nearest item - which probably would have been the phone. His father had talked about this place testing him. This would have been what he meant.
"Thanks a whole fucking lot, dad!" Mike seethed. "Parent of the year award, that's for damn sure!" Piece of cake, the phone guy said, shortly before hanging up. Mike took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It was a bunch of singing animatronic animals. They were machines, and they had the stiff, slow movements to prove it. How much could they move around, really? Hell, maybe this really will be a piece of cake. Maybe it's a damn prank!
He switched his camera back to the stage, and the pulse in his ears stuttered when he realized that Bonnie wasn't on it any longer.
He found the rabbit a few times as the night progressed. It liked to stand in the 'party room' and look real close into the camera, the light gleaming off its artificial eyes. On one hand, at least it meant the rabbit was still far from him. On the other, it was the creepiest damn look Mike had ever seen. He knew, without a doubt, that Bonnie would be downright gleeful to get a chance to rip Mike apart.
He flipped the camera quickly over to the prize room and wound the music box back up. He had no idea what, exactly, it was keeping at bay - but he didn't want to find out. Satisfied that the box would hold for awhile longer, he flipped quickly to the stage - Chica and Freddy still there - and then back to a party room. Just in time to see Bonnie's foot slide into the vent.
The vent? Mike thought in alarm. He hadn't even realized there was a vent in that room. He glanced to his left, then to his right. No doubt that vent led right into one of those ones. Which meant Bonnie had finally made a move. The rabbit was coming for Mike. Hands shaking, he began to shove the light buttons down, watching for any sign of blue.
Then, all of a sudden, he saw Bonnie's bright green eye peering from the vent. He slammed a hand over his mouth - choking off a scream. His thoughts raced - one of them was here. In the room with him! What the hell was he supposed to do? His eyes caught the mask on his left and he hurriedly grabbed it and shoved it onto his face. Just in time, too, because shortly after Bonnie climbed up into the room and stood to its full height. The rabbit head turned back and forth, ears on its head twitching. Mike didn't dare to so much as breathe. His heart was pounding as he stared at the animatronic. It skipped a few beats entirely when Bonnie turned its head and looked right back at Mike.
Time stood still, the two caught in a life or death staring match. The lights around them flickered violently, as if in danger of going out entirely. Mike mentally prayed to every being he thought might exist, hoping against hope that the mask really did disguise him. It was all he had, now.
And then, Bonnie left. The lights stabilized as the rabbit turned and marched down the hall, away from the office. Mike just sat there, breaths coming in heavy gasps, now that he felt he could let them out. He left the mask on his head, unwilling to remove the safety device. So it worked. Great. In that case, Mike would just leave it on. He looked around the office, quickly hitting each 'Light' button in succession. Nothing else was there, at the moment. He flipped his cameras around - Bonnie was staring at him again from the dining room. "Just… Stay there," Mike muttered. He moved to flip to another camera, but noticed a small blinking yellow triangle in the corner of the tablet. He frowned, uncertain what it could be. Then it occurred to him - the music box!
He switched over to the prize corner and pressed the little 'wind' button so hard the tip of his finger ached. It was more difficult than it should have been - the mask on his head blocked a lot of his view and made seeing the small button difficult. By the time he managed to slam his finger on it, it had been getting dangerously close to off. He reached up with a trembling hand and slipped the mask from his face. He wanted to keep it on, more than anything. But it blocked chunks of his sight, and he knew it'd prove more dangerous than helpful. But he kept it close, real close, ready to put it on again at the first sign of trouble.
Mike checked the stage. Freddy stood alone. Mike sucked in a breath and began flipping through the cameras, trying to find the wayward chicken.
4 am. Two hours left to go.
A loud screeching tone filled the room and Mike jumped back so hard his chair tumbled to the ground, nearly taking him with it. He looked around in alarm, his eyes finally resting on the blinking red-faced alarm clock. It was six, end of his shift. He moved to the desk and clicked the stage camera and, sure enough, all three animatronics were on it, still and silent. He looked to the prize corner - the music still played, but the little gauge was no longer draining. Just like that, the game seemed to be over.
Mike took a step and immediately grabbed the desk to keep himself up, his legs giving way beneath him. He made them work, letting go of the desk only once he was sure he wouldn't fall. Somehow, he'd managed to survive this place and its rogue animatronics. And, now that he had a second to think, it hadn't been too hard. Terrifying, absolutely. But he'd only had to wait out Bonnie once more, and Chica had never showed up to the office at all. She'd wandered, sure, but never farther than the bathrooms. Freddy had stayed on stage entirely.
It's a paycheck.
It's a death wish!
No one else will take you.
Because I'm just fodder here!
Mike argued back and forth with himself as he left the office. He crept along the wall, staying quiet and slow, just in case six was not, in fact, a magical time of 'no more killer animatronics.' But he could only keep it up for so long. Eventually, his fear got the better of him. Not able to stay in the pizzeria a second longer, he booked it, running as fast as he could for the door. He got there without incident, unable to bring himself to even glance at the animatronics on stage as he left the building entirely.
Later, as he tried to get something like rest, the warring opinions in his head settled on an answer.
He would return for a second shift.